brrm | Did I do the right thing?

After an evening in the pub with Dave and Chris and several people I didn't know, I felt a sudden need to go to Parson's Pleasure. Oxford people may or may not know about the Parson's Pleasure thing. First of all, I should explain the location. It is a grassy area next to a very still lagoon of the river just before it goes over the rollers known by many punters. The location is also often sought out by people who wish to look into the calm waters and think. Tonight was clear and moonlit, and gazing down into the water, I lost myself in the indigo reflection of the starry sky above. On the opposite bank are a pair of trees. In the stillness of the water, these were reflected below in a perfect mirror image.

After standing for a while, gazing at this scene, I went over to investigate the bench. For the first time, I noticed a plaque affixed to it, informing me that the fields opposite had been bought by <I've forgotten his name>, "a lover of Parson's Pleasure", in order to preserve the view.

Now we come to the point of the story. As I turned my bike off the Marston cycle path into Parson's Pleasure, I noticed another bike doing the same. I rode along the side of the rollers, came to a stop immediately before the water, and gazed into it for some while. I lost sight of the other contemplator for the moment.
I won't say that I had decided to leave - I didn't want to leave, but just to gaze into that abyss forever. I tore myself away and, as I cycled out, I noticed a girl, most likely the other cyclist who entered with me. She was sitting on the steps just in front of the weir, with her head in her hands. I recalled the time when I had last been here at night, in the winter. There was snow on the ground. This was the depths of my Difficult Times, and I had been drinking a little. I curled up on the snow-covered bench, I'm not sure why. After a few minutes, however, I heard footsteps approaching, crunching through the re-frozen snow. And someone asked me, "Are you ok?" "Yes, thanks," I answered, and continued to lie there. The footsteps receded. That someone should deviate from the cycle path to enquire if I was alright touched me so much, that I got up, and stumbled home to bed.
Now, as I cycled away tonight, with every revolution of the pedals, I was thinking of the girl with her head in her hands, and of my own personal incident. I kept wondering whether I should turn around, go back, and ask her if she was ok. Half way along the path, I did stop, and think for several minutes. I turned around, and cycled back. But I really couldn't quite convince myself to stop as I passed her. Part of me was thinking that one comes to Parson's Pleasure to be alone with one's thoughts. So I cycled on past. Every moment of the ride home, I was conscious that I was cycling away from this girl, and wondering over and over whether I should have spoken to her.
So, dear reader, did I do the right thing? Should I have talked to her? (A strange man on a dark cycle path, perhaps not). Even now, I'm wondering if she's still there, looking into the calm glassy waters, as I did tonight, as I did nearly two years ago, and as many other people have done, to be alone with their thoughts.